


gravity irresistible

by zxrycyan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dorks in Love, Getting Together, Humour, Idiots in Love, M/M, lance is crushing so hard, they are the cutest, water balloon fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24522331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zxrycyan/pseuds/zxrycyan
Summary: Just Lance waxing poetic on Keith for about one thousand words, and then miraculously being enough of a spaz to actually get together with him. Hunk thinks the whole thing is cute, while Pidge takes it upon herself to educate the adults on what 'UST' is.(For a few long seconds, they're staring into each other's eyes -- Keith is blinking, wide-eyed and flushed, fingers curled against his cheek. Slowly, realisation dawns on Lance regarding the exact position they're in.Remember what he said about his life being a soap opera? Yeah, he'd like to rehash that point again. How does this keep happening to him.Then the black-haired boy pulls his hand away like he'd been burnt, even stumbling back a few steps. "Wh-what! Why did you make mecradle your face!""I wasn'ttryingto make you cradle my face!" Lance shouts, throwing up his hands and unsuccessfully fighting down a blush.)
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 121





	gravity irresistible

**Author's Note:**

> this is entirely inspired by the amazingly beautiful fanart in this fandom (and the AMVs and MEPs i can't stop watching on youtube, i feel like i'm fourteen again help), they're killing me. i'm drowning in all the feelings so i had to get them out somehow. i hope this came out silly and funny instead of awful and completely rambly (it gets better in the second half i think? I HOPE)
> 
> anyways, enjoy and let me know what you think!! :)

It's awful, this feeling that squeezes his heart in his chest when he sees Keith, thinks of him, at practically every small thing he does -- this tight nameless feeling that makes his pumping heart rise into his throat, that's at once like flying and falling.

It's unfair, is what it is -- how every small smile and smirk the black-haired boy directs his way steals his breath, the thief; how he can't think a single fucking thing after battles when the team's in the hangar taking off their armour, because the black shirts Keith likes to wear stick to him like a second skin with sweat and it's- the image of broad shoulders dipping into a narrow waist _haunts Lance's dreams._

He wants to stare into the fucker's eyes, which are the purple-gray of stormclouds back home, for eternity or more. He wants to kiss his knuckles and his palm because those fingerless gloves drive him _insane_. He wants to slide his fingers into soft black hair and brush his bangs gently, carefully away from his face. And he wants to touch that sliver of skin on Keith's sides whenever he stretches like a cat against the couch almost more than he wants to breathe sometimes. 

When they're training, it's all Lance can do to keep his attention on the task when he just wants to stand still and watch the terrible grace, the deadly elegance of Keith _dancing_ around enemies with the blurred curve of his sword swinging, or casually dissecting a problematic situation to find the solution. The way his mullet curls against the back of his pale neck with sweat is more distracting than should be humanly possible. And after trainings, Lance always hightails it out of there to shower in five minutes flat, even though he loves long hot showers, because he needs to take advantage of the fact that Keith likes to stay back and train a little extra -- if Lance catches him in the showers he will literally _spontaneously combust._

When they're bickering, getting all up in each other's face, sometimes all the words fly out of Lance's head and he can't come up with a retort to save his life, because all he can think about is that Keith is close but he wants to be closer, to have all the distance between them evaporated.

Lance wants to hold his hand so, so bad. And just hold him in general, because Keith is so- soft and sad sometimes.

Lance has always been the kind to fall easy, but this crush is getting completely, utterly _out of hand_. 

* * *

The worst part of it all is how unsympathetic Hunk is about it (okay no, that's not the worst part; the worst part is how very, very badly Lance wants to cradle Keith in his arms).

One time, when the whole team is lounging around before dinner, Keith honest-to-God sticks his tongue out at Lance, so playful and light-hearted and happy that Lance goes completely red and probably constipated-looking (probably angry-looking too, which is good because he does not need Keith finding out about his terrible, terrible crush), because there is so much pent-up _feeling_ in him that he might just pop.

Even more terrible is the fact that whenever they sit down to dinner, Keith will pass the bowl and utensils down the table to Lance first before eating anything himself, and Lance knows it doesn't mean anything but just the act makes him feel like Keith cares, just a little bit, and he cheers internally. It's pathetic, he knows. (Equally pathetic is how grateful Lance is that on the first day Keith had somehow ended up in the seat next to him, and none of them had bothered changing places thereafter.)

And that's all not to count for that time Keith actually _laughs_ at something clumsy Lance does, one hand covering his mouth and with a healthy pink rising to his cheeks, which has Lance's jaw legitimately dropping open and his traitorous heart soaring out of his damn throat. He wants to deadass become a comedian, and maybe he plays up his clumsiness and ridiculousness thereafter in the hopes of making the other boy laugh more. 

But whenever he wails about all this to Hunk and collapses dramatically against his best friend's shoulder, Hunk just chuckles and pats him on the back, pronouncing the whole thing 'cute' instead of being sympathetic to Lance's very lost cause. 

"Wait, wait, you don't get it," Lance had whined once, "This isn't like the three or five crushes I had back in the Garrison-" Those had been mostly brief, lasting just a few weeks each, and had not felt like _falling into a bottomless pit._ "-it's like, like, all of them combined at the same time! It's so intense and I can't deal, Hunk, I caaaaan't!" 

"Awwww," Hunk had said, hugging Lance like the amazing friend he is, "But maybe that's a good thing."

"How?" Lance had replied, incredulous, "How can this possibly be a good thing?"

And then Hunk had shrugged, almost smiling. "I don't know. Maybe if it all works out."

Lance had stared silently into the distance for a solid three seconds, mentally digging himself a grave and giving himself some well-deserved condolences. He starts planning his funeral and writing a eulogy in his head. "I'm doomed." 

* * *

The paladin bond they share when out fighting in their lions is absolutely nerve-wrecking, because Lance does not want to accidentally confess via mysterious magical mind-melding, thank you very much. He doesn't want to confess, period.

By the seventh battle, he's asked Hunk to confirm at least twenty times that he can't tell anything's off, _are you sure Hunk, really, you don't think he'll be able to tell right, please, don't lie to me but tell me he won't._ Hunk reassures him that he's safe from accidental bond-confessions -- "And even if we can feel anything, I don't think Keith would realise," Hunk had laughed, which had set Lance off into a panic all over again. 

"Why don't you just tell him how you feel?" Hunk asks once. 

"And doom the universe because I can't control my teenaged hormonal emotions?" Lance replies with grave seriousness. 

Hunk blinks. "How would you doom the universe?" 

"He'd reject me and be super awkward which would make trainings impossible and I'd drown the magical mind-bond voodoo with sadness and rejected-ness and _sadness_ and he'd super-charge it with awkwardness and then the team bond would weaken and we'll never be able to form Voltron again!" Lance concludes with a cry, throwing his hands up in the air.

Hunk blinks some more, almost visibly trying not to laugh. Hunk is the worst friend, except where he's hands down the best friend. Yes, Lance's brain confuses himself regularly as well.

"Well, I'm sure it won't be that bad," Hunk hedges. 

"It absolutely would," Lance says sadly with lots of sadness. 

Why, why, why can't he just get Keith fucking Kogane out of his system?

* * *

The team has to play a water balloon war, because apparently water bomb fights are proven to be effective team-bonding exercises in Altea for their soldiers and paladins, or maybe because Coran is secretly a child and just wants to play childish games.

Lance is not down with this. Everyone else stares at him like _who are you and what have you done with Lance McClain?_ which is fair, because in any other circumstances he'd be totally down with this, except Keith is around. He cannot do this. He will perish. Just the thought of it is-

Nope. Nope, nope, nope, Lance do not go there.

But the rest of the team don't see any harm in it, and even appear quite excited at getting to do something fun during training -- Keith is smirking a little, bouncing slightly like he can't wait to go, and even Pidge has put her laptop away to discuss the rules and teams. 

"Lance, Keith, you two worked rather well together in that last battle and there's a mission coming up that I want you two to take point on, so you'll be on the same team with Hunk," Shiro announces, "Leaving Pidge, Allura, Coran and I for the other team." 

"Why am I on the same team as mullet?!" Lance cries. 

"Yeah, I can't beat him if we're on the same team!" Keith agrees.

Lance turns to face him and poke a finger in his chest. "No, _I_ can't beat _you_ if we're on the same team, get your facts right!"

"Children," Shiro cuts in with a heavy look. "You are always on the same team -- Team Voltron." That shuts both of them up quick, guilty but still pouting. "And Keith, Lance, it makes sense for the two of you to take point when we're attacking Galra bases on foot in the future." 

They both mutter half-hearted complaints, but it _does_ make sense -- Keith is fast, the best in the team at open combat (minus Shiro, but Shiro's gotta do his leader-ly commanding thingy) and well-suited to piercing through enemy defences, and Lance is quick and stealthy enough to keep up and lay down supporting fire. Lance kind of thrills at the chance to be paired with the other boy, especially with the added implication of Shiro thinking he's _good enough_ , though Keith appears significantly less enthusiastic.

Which is fine. Of course it is, they're rivals, Lance has known from the start that his was a hopeless cause.

An hour later, Keith is somehow crowded on top of him. Lance is half-sitting, half-crouching with one leg drawn up underneath, both of them hidden behind one of the numerous obstacles laid conveniently around the large hall. Keith's hair is plastered to his face in a way that should be unattractive but really, really isn't, and his black shirt is wet and crumpled and hugging his torso in a way that makes Lance _jealous_. Lance is jealous of a fucking shirt, that's how ridiculous his crush has gotten. He can see the dip along the centre of Keith's spine down his back and he's sure his face is on fire.

Lance has no idea how they'd ended up here. What. Just. How is this his life, what's even happening, oh my God, Keith is moving, stretching up to peek over the barricade they'd set up before the battle started. He whispers, "I don't see any of them." 

It puts his stomach at eye-level with Lance, who makes a choked sound that has Keith looking down at him in concern. "Are you sick? Why are you so red?" He asks, a slight frown on his face that Lance finds way cuter than it probably warrants.

"Peachy!" He squeaks.

Keith doesn't seem to believe him, still frowning, but apparently chalks it up to one of Lance's oddities. He steps over Lance's right leg (he was _crouched over Lance's leg for the past thirty seconds,_ Lance can't breathe) and squats, back pressed against the barricade, as he says, "How about I lure their attention to me by attacking, and you just shoot at whoever pops up?" 

"Can't shoot," Lance wheezes nonsensically, "No gun." 

Keith stares at him like he's being even more of an idiot than usual. "I meant," he drawls, "With the water bombs. Obviously."

"Obviously," Lance repeats, unthinkingly, half-hysterically. 

This makes Keith pause from where he's ready to dart out and into the line of fire of the rest. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"Yes! Obviously!" Lance says quickly, trying his best to gather his scattered attention.

"Fine," Keith says after a moment, "You better cover me properly."

Grumbling, Lance takes up position as the other boy runs out, and everyone yells, shouting and laughing as the battle heats up with water balloons arcing through the air. With the returned distance between them, Lance feels like he can finally breathe again. 

He must jinx it, because another half an hour later finds them in an even more compromising position, Lance having slipped on a wet patch and fallen _on top of Keith._ Somehow. Why the hell was Keith even standing behind him?! He bemoans the fact that his life had, at some point, devolved into a cliche space soap opera. He's not against soap operas, per se, though he doesn't _love_ them like Hunk does, but he is absolutely against starring in one. 

Mostly because he'd be that required jokester-goofball-comedic-relief guy who only appears to look dumb and set off one or two pathetic laugh tracks. He won't even get any quality jokes! Or chicks. If he's in a soap opera he should at least score a hot chick.

"Um," Keith says, which makes Lance realise that he'd been sitting in his lap for the past however-many-seconds he'd taken to ponder his tragic life. 

"Sorry!" He yelps, trying to push down on the floor to get back up to standing. Unfortunately, judging by Keith's pained screech and subsequent slap upside Lance's head, as well as the muscled cloth underneath his palm, he'd managed to push down on ...some part of Keith instead. 

"Sorry," he gasps, abandoning that enterprise and flopping back down, "Sorry, sorry!" 

He gets the bright idea to log roll off the other boy's lap instead, which works perfectly, except for the few seconds of too-much-contact all along his torso and upper leg and skinny ass. 

"Sorry," Lance groans, now lying safely face-down on the floor, all out of fluster. He's officially been flustered for too long to care anymore. This entire game has been an unending disaster.

"Quiznak, what's your problem," Keith breathes, not even a question. 

"Uhhh," Hunk appears, finally, "Are you two alright?" 

Lance groans, louder, making his opinion very clear, as he hears Keith yells, "It's not what it looks like!" 

Which, of course, only manages to make their innocuous situation look more suspicious.

"Uhhhhhh," Hunk repeats, sounding even more doubtful, "I don't even know what it looks like? Why are you blushing so much? Why is Lance acting like he's dying?" 

Lance lolls his head around until he can rest his cheek against the ground and look up at his best friend, and declares as seriously as he possibly can, "Because I _am_ dying."

"Should... I be worried? We can call the game off?" Hunk flounders.

Which reminds the two ultra-competitive boys that, oh yeah, the game is still going on. 

"No, it's fine! I'm good to go!" Lance shoots up into a sitting position, because like hell he's going to concede defeat like this.

"We haven't won yet," Keith scowls fearsomely, which is as close to agreement with Lance as he'll get.

Hunk grins. "That's the spirit! Alright, I dunno what they're plotting but they've been silent for five minutes, so it can't be anything good."

They gather, strategise, and then they're off again. 

Unfortunately for Lance's battered pride, they don't manage to win, because Shiro and Pidge are a terrifying combination, almost as terrifying as Allura on her own, and combined with Coran's detailed knowledge of the layout of the castle, they get ambushed way too many times.

By the end of it, the K-la-nk coalition is utterly soaked through, and the pieces of paper stuck to the inside of their vests that they're supposed to protect are so flimsy they're basically in pieces -- a complete and utter defeat. 

"It's your fault, idiot, you were distracted the whole game!" Keith hisses out of the corner of his mouth at Lance, as Allura gives a victory speech and Shiro provides feedback on their various tactics.

"How is it my fault?! You're the one in charge of attack!" Lance snipes back.

"Well, _you're_ the team sharpshooter, so long range water balloon attacks are _your_ area!" 

"Wow, Kogane, if I didn't know better I'd say that's almost a compliment!" 

"Like hell I'd give _you_ a compliment, moonface!" 

"WHAT?! YOU LIAR, MY FACE IS POCKMARK-FREE! AS-" 

"Children!" Shiro sighs. 

Fuming, Lance jabs a finger at Keith. "He insulted my skin! That's just a blatant UNTRUTH, my face is amazing, smooth, soft as baby cheeks! If you don't believe me, here, just-!" 

Before he can think through what he's doing, he's grabbed one of Keith's hands by the wrist and placed it against his jaw, just barely avoiding slapping himself in the face. "-feel this!" 

For a few long seconds, they're staring into each other's eyes -- Keith is blinking, wide-eyed and flushed, fingers curled against his cheek. Slowly, realisation dawns on Lance regarding the exact position they're in. 

Remember what he said about soap operas? Yeah, he'd like to rehash that point again. How does this keep happening to him.

Then the black-haired boy pulls his hand away like he'd been burnt, even stumbling back a few steps. "Wh-what! Why did you make me _cradle your face!"_

"I wasn't _trying_ to make you cradle my face!" Lance shouts, throwing up his hands in exasperation and unsuccessfully fighting down a blush. 

("You know what? I don't even care anymore. I vote we leave these idiots here till they work out all their UST," Pidge says in the background. 

"UST?" Coran asks.

At the same time, Hunk agrees, "I could go for a tub of space goo right now. Dinner?"

"Unresolved Sexual Tension," Pidge explains unrepentantly. 

There's a heavy pause. 

"Right," Shiro says quickly, "I'm not getting in the middle of that." 

"Me neither," Allura adds. "Let's get some dinner." 

The two boys don't even notice as the rest of the team sneak out of the room, backing carefully away from them like they're wild animals about to go berserk. Once the doors close behind the five, they flee to the kitchen, sharing secretive grins like they've accomplished a secret mission.) 

"But you just grabbed my hand and did this!" Keith yells back, returning to the pose he'd been in a second ago.

"Now you're just cradling my face _voluntarily!"_

"Well, you're not doing anything to stop me!" Keith sounds about as hysterical as Lance feels.

"Yeah, well, you're-!" Lance flounders for a moment. "You're not- supposed to want to!"

"But I DO!" 

Keith finally pulls back and turns away to tuck his hands under his armpits, but not before Lance sees the stricken look on his face, like he'd said something he hadn't meant to say because he'd meant it too much. Lance's heaving breaths fill the space between them, loud pants for air that feels lacking even though the castle-ship's life support systems are working fine.

"...What?" Lance asks, but it comes out as barely more than a whisper. It snaps him into realising that he- _they_ \- seem to be teetering on the brink of something, something unknowable and unnameable and terrifyingly huge, like space itself. 

"Nothing," Keith snaps. "Nothing, can we please go eat dinner now?" 

The fact that he's said 'please' to Lance probably means the world is ending.

Lance has made a lot of damn fool decisions in his life, but most of them have had some kind of reasoning behind them. This, however? There's no fucking thought going through his mind when he picks up the water balloon and bursts it over his own head. 

At the 'splat' of plastic breaking and following sound of water splattering over the floor, Keith turns around to look at him in shock. (This. This is the reasoning behind that decision, it must be -- so that Keith will look at him again.) Lance is sure he's doing a very flattering impression of a cold, gobsmacked, drenched rat.

And then, like the winter sun breaking over the horizon or peeking out from behind storm clouds, Keith's mouth grows into a smile. A beat or two later, he's suddenly bent double, cracking up with helpless laughter. 

Lance's brain has officially left the premises. He thought Keith was attractive before? Now Keith's gravity is a black hole and Lance has crossed the event horizon, his pull irresistable. Keith is the Sun and Lance is Icarus, soaring on wax wings and far too close to turn back without getting burnt. 

The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, the genuine mirth in their depths -- Lance's heart is about to explode in his chest, pounding so hard he can feel it in his throat. A grumpy, broody Keith is cute. A happy one is... _gold_. Pure gold. Lance wants to wrap him in blankets and kiss his eyelids and watch sunlight trace those laugh lines in the morning, which is insane because they haven't even seen sun or had proper mornings in weeks.

"I'm going to _pass away_ ," Lance announces as he marches over - is drawn uncontrollably over - to the other boy, barrelling forward despite Keith's bewildered stare, "I'm ascending to Heaven, and then going straight to Hell." 

"Huh?" It's the most innocent sound of confusion that has ever fallen out of Keith's lips, and Lance kisses it straight back into his infuriating mouth. 

A second that feels like an eternity, whole worlds hanging motionless in the balance -- and then Keith is kissing back. His hands scorch against Lance's sides even through his cold, wet shirt, pulling him imperceptibly closer. Their bodies lean and stretch against each other's, trying to fill every breath of empty space between them. Lance has had a few kisses, but none of them combined had ever felt like this. So natural yet life-changing, like stars aligning and tectonic plates finally fitting together along all their cracks and rough edges.

When they pull back, Keith looks _wrecked_ , far more than a mostly chaste kiss like that should make him. Lance has a feeling he's not doing much better himself.

"You really-?" Keith asks, probably not meaning to but totally peering up at Lance through his damned eyelashes like a fucking damsel. But it's pretty, so pretty, and Lance will never mistake him for a damsel _in distress._

"I really," Lance replies. It doesn't matter what Keith had meant to ask exactly -- in this moment, in all the moments, he is ready to give this precious boy anything he wants.

Keith swallows, a movement that draws Lance's gaze to the sharp lines of his throat. "Me too," he says, voice hoarse.

It's Lance's turn to swallow.

"How long...?" He wonders.

"Weeks," Keith scowls, like that's somehow Lance's fault. 

It makes him laugh, a small huff that releases some of the metric fuckton of relief flowing through him. "I was going _insane_ ," he breathes. "Not that I'm not still, because your- your _ass_ , Keith, it's illegal." 

Predictably, the other boy squawks and shoves at him, face a shade that'll camouflage him all too well against his Lion. But hearteningly, he doesn't actually try to squirm out of Lance's hold and even offers a small smile at Lance's shit-eating grin.

"Yeah, well, _your_ skinny ass probably left bruises on my thighs," Keith retorts. "Wait, that sounds so wrong-!" He adds, flustered, and hides his face in Lance's chest. If this is the reaction he gets, Lance is _determined_ to keep making dirty jokes till the end of time.

"I s'ppose this means I can tell people they're wrong if they tell me it's not like I accidentally fell onto your dick," Lance says, just to be a little shit, "Since technically, I _did_." 

"Shut _up_ ," Keith groans into his shirt, "I must hate myself to choose to get stuck with you." 

"Aw babe," Lance laughs, half-joking and half-pretending it's not actually really important what Keith's answer is, "Do you really?" 

Begrudgingly, Keith raises his face and says, "...No, idiot." 

Lance whoops in joy. "That's basically a declaration of love, coming from you!"

"IS NOT!"

"Is so!"

"Is _not!"_

"Is so! But that's okay, because I hate myself enough to get stuck with you too, Keithy baby."

"If you ever call me 'Keithy baby' again I will break up with you _and_ break your kneecaps," Keith threatens darkly, "before you can even blink."

"You sure know how to make a guy swoon," Lance teases.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Fuck yeah it's a challenge," Lance grins, spreading his arms, "Woo the hell outta me, sweetheart."

"LAST WARNING." 

"What? You didn't say I can't call you 'sweetheart'! What about honey bunny? Cinnamon roll? Cutie patootie? Snuggle muff- wait, come back here! I was just kidding! Keith, noooo!"

(His life's a fucking soap opera, but hey, at least he gets a few quality jokes and scores the hot- chick?

Yeap, he'd better stop that train of thought before Keith murders him.)


End file.
